


Of Secrets and Wine

by sassy_cissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cissa/pseuds/sassy_cissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take one meddling dead ex-Headmaster, add in one living no-nonsense Headmistress, and one guy who's supposed to be dead.  Mix in one determined, know-it-all witch who refuses to take 'no' for an answer and you come up with... this fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Secrets and Wine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the sshg fest on LJ for this prompt:  
> 1\. Some years after the war, Hermione is researching for the next edition of Hogwarts: A History. More and more clues lead her to believe that Snape isn't dead. Naturally, she goes to investigate. What happens?

Hermione looked around the Headmistress' office and gave a deep sigh of relief. _Finally, a chance to speak with Professor Dumbledore without Minerva hovering...monitoring our every word._

At that exact moment, the door burst open and Minerva rushed in. "Sorry to be late, Hermione," Minerva said. "Mr Westerman forgot how exacting spells could be when he told Mr Beacher that he had a pea-brain. The resulting transformation of Mr Beacher's head was alarming, although not long lasting. Once I had things sorted, I left them to their Heads of House." She paused momentarily. "I hope I've not caused you any delay."

"I've only just arrived," Hermione assured her. "I'm nearly at the end of my research. I was hoping to ask Professor Snape a few questions today." She kept her gaze directly on Minerva, waiting for the tiny, nearly imperceptible flinch that was always there when she mentioned speaking to Professor Snape.

"I have no more control over Severus now than I did years ago, Hermione." Minerva's tone was playful, but her eyes were hard and told Hermione a different story. "And I'm certain any information you require can be obtained from Albus. Severus's short time as Headmaster is quite well documented. I do not believe that speaking with him personally is necessary to your research."

Turning towards the portraits that lined the office walls, Hermione let out a brief sigh and opened her notebook. She waved her wand and moved a hard, uncushioned chair from beside the Headmistress's desk and placed it directly across from the portraits of Severus and Albus before she sat. She coughed quietly and waited until she saw Professor Dumbledore look up from his book.

"Hermione," he said jovially. "Has it been a week already? Time certainly does pass quickly." He closed his book, holding his place with a finger. "How are things coming along? When will your edition of Hogwarts, A History be going to press?"

"I'm making headway," she replied. "I do have some questions for Professor Snape, but I never seem to be here at the right time."

Minerva sat at her desk, paying much more attention to the conversation than she did the papers laid out in front of her, and cleared her throat.

"Yes, yes, Minerva," Albus replied, with a glance toward his old friend. "When the time is right, Hermione, things will become clear. Now, shall you and I get to it?" He held up his book and smiled. "Tom Sawyer was about to convince his friends to do his chores for him, and I am looking forward to hearing his compelling story."

**sshg**sshg**sshg**

 

Hermione leaned back in her chair, stretching her feet out in front of her as she arched her back off the hard chair. She relaxed and set her notebook and quill on the table at her side. Moving slowly, she packed up her briefcase and turned toward the door. She stilled and turned to face the wall of portraits.

"Professor Dumbledore?" she asked. "I was wondering" – her eyes darted to the unmoving figure of Severus Snape in the portrait to the right of Dumbledore's.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore replied, turning to follow her gaze. "You were wondering..."

"Is he ever awake?" She felt a soft blush crept up her neck, rising to her cheeks. "I've been here nearly a dozen times, and he's always asleep. I was just curious if that was normal for someone who is recently...deceased."

Minerva stepped in and put an arm around Hermione's shoulders, guiding her towards the door. "What's normal for one is not necessarily normal for another. Perhaps Severus seeks a peaceful existence in death. Merlin knows he never had one while he was alive."

Hermione sighed on her way out the door. Minerva was really becoming tiresome in her efforts to avoid any discussion of the portrait of Severus Snape.

**sshg**sshg**sshg**

 

Harry watched as Hermione moved around the small kitchen in her flat preparing them some tea. Even after all this time, it felt odd for it to be just the two of them. The short lived romance between his two best friends had ended amicably enough, and when the opportunity to work with Charlie in Romania arose, Ron had jumped at the chance to get away. Harry ran his finger around the edge of his cup and glanced towards the Floo.

"Harry James Potter," Hermione scolded. "Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

Harry looked up sheepishly. "Errr...something about Minerva?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and cuffed him on the back of the head before sitting across from him at the table. "I was asking you if you might have any idea as to why Minerva insists on changing the topic every time I mention speaking to Professor Snape's portrait."

"Maybe she had a thing for the old bugger," Harry said with a laugh, "and she wants to keep him to herself."

"Just because you're ridiculously in love, does not mean the entire world need be."

"Just because you're not, doesn't mean..." Harry countered before trailing off. "Oh you know what I mean."

"I'm serious, Harry. Every single time I mention Professor Snape to Dumbledore, Minerva is right there answering for him. And when I try to talk to her about it, she guides the conversation in a completely different direction."

The Floo flared to life and Draco Malfoy stepped elegantly from it, brushing the soot from his cloak. "Evening, Hermione." He spoke to Hermione, but his eyes were trained on Harry as he crossed the room. Harry tilted his head up to meet Draco's lips in a brush of a kiss, then Draco took a seat, reaching across the table to steal Harry's tea.

"You two seem deep in it," he said lightly. "Should I be worried?"

"Hermione is convinced that Minerva is sabotaging her efforts to speak to Snape's portrait."

"Still working on the updates to Hogwarts: A History?" He rubbed at his chin. "I suppose Severus's input would be helpful, though I imagine Dumbledore knows most of it."

"That's what Minerva keeps telling me." Hermione shook her head, her lips pursed. She shrugged and continued. "It's just...oh I don't know. It's almost as if she really is keeping a secret. I just wish there were some way to talk to Severus."

"I'm not aware of any other portraits of Snape," Harry said. "Are you, Draco?"

"He wasn't exactly the type to have his portrait done," Draco replied with a laugh. "There really wasn't anything much left in his house at Spinner's End. In fact, it was surprisingly empty."

"I don't think he expected to live through the war," Harry said quietly.

Draco reached over and covered Harry's hand on the table top. "Neither did you," he murmured, linking their fingers. He lifted his eyes to Hermione. "I'm not sure what you can do about McGonagall's stonewalling." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Perhaps you could merely sneak some Dreamless Sleep into her tea..." His lips quirked at the corner, and Harry snorted.

"That's something you would do, not Hermione," he said dryly.

"Point." Draco took a sip of Harry's tea.

"I'd just like to understand why he's sleeping all of the time," Hermione said, frowning in irritation. "I mean, shouldn't he be awake, at least occasionally?"

"One would think," Draco mused. "You know, I used to hear as a boy that each wizard had a different response to death, and that their portraits often 'took on' those responses. Some were ready to die, and therefore at peace with it. Those are the ones who seem to nap so peacefully. Others, especially those killed violently, were often restless and unable to be at peace, even in their portraits."

"But that makes no sense," Hermione responded. "Snape is asleep, all of the time, and I can think of no more violent, horrible death than his."

The room grew quiet, as if a shadow of the man's violent end had fallen over them.

"It makes no sense," Hermione repeated. "None at all."

"You're right," Draco said finally. "It doesn't." He chewed at the corner of his lip. "There was another story I heard as a boy," he mused thoughtfully. "You know there is a book, where all of the names of magical children born in the British Isles are automatically recorded, and that this is where the lists for the Hogwarts letters come from."

"Yes," Hermione answered. "I've heard of it."

"Well, according to stories I heard growing up, there is another book." He paused. "A Death Book."

Hermione frowned. "A Death Book?"

Draco nodded. "A book that records each witch or wizard's death. The date, the means, the condition of their soul, whether they're at rest...everything. But it's probably just an old tale, handed down so many times that it's completely inaccurate by now."

"Like the Tales of Beedle the Bard?" Harry asked wryly. Draco gave him a level look.

"Touché."

"If there were such a book," Hermione said slowly, "it could certainly help to explain why his portrait is always asleep."

"It might do more than that," Draco muttered, and Harry shot him a look.

"We've talked about this," he said to his spouse.

"I've 'talked about it'," Draco countered. "You just think I'm wrong."

Hermione frowned. "What are you two on about?"

Harry sighed. "Draco," he began slowly, "thinks it's possible that Snape did not actually die."

Hermione stared at him, her brow furrowed in consternation. "But you saw him die." Harry's eyes held hers and in that instant she knew that they were both remembering those horrible moments in the Shrieking Shack. "We...saw him." Her voice trailed off.

"No, we didn't," Harry whispered. "We never checked for a pulse or stayed long enough to be certain he was dead."

"Harry," Hermione said. "No one could have survived that. He'd lost too much blood. It's just not possible."

"Neither is magic to most of the population," Harry replied.

"There's only one way to be certain," Draco said, folding his arms. Hermione looked at him. "Find the book."

"If it even exists," Hermione countered, "I wouldn't know where to begin looking for it."

Harry laughed. "Oh, I think you know. The bigger question is how do you talk to Dumbledore alone?"

Draco coughed. "Personally, I think the bigger question is what does a bloke have to do to get dinner around here? I was starving when I arrived and I don't smell anything cooking."

"Oh bugger," Hermione said, jumping up from her chair. "I had chicken I was going to roast and vegetables..."

Harry stood and pulled his mobile from his pocket. "Good thing your neighbourhood is Muggle and Magical, Hermione." He paused, finger ready to hit a button. "Indian good? I have Tamarind on speed dial."

**sshg**sshg**sshg**

 

"It is inconceivable to me that Miss Granger believes I would be able to supply her with any more information than Albus," Severus said between clenched teeth.

"And I have told her that very thing many times, Severus," Minerva replied. "However, I feel we must consider the source. Once Miss Granger gets an idea in her head, she is inclined to research it until she has found a satisfactory answer."

Severus snorted. "She has always been a nosy know-it-all."

"I prefer to think of her as focused on a task," Dumbledore said, looking down at the pair seated near his portrait.

"You wouldn't if it were your life she was poking about," Severus snarled.

"But alas, I no longer have a life to poke about, as you put it," Dumbledore answered wistfully.

Severus paled. "And thank you for that reminder of why I must remain in hiding. There isn't a witch or wizard alive who doesn't wish my head on a platter for your death and my past as a Death Eater."

"Forgive me Severus; that was unkind."

"The truth always is, Albus."

"Perhaps the time for you to return to the Wizarding world has arrived," Dumbledore said softy.

"Never!" Severus shouted. He stood and moved towards the hearth. "I will not participate in this conversation a moment longer. I made my decision to live my life in solitude. I have my vineyard, and it allows me to live my life as I choose. I will not allow that to change to satisfy the curiosity of Hermione Granger. Let it be; just let me be."

He took a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fire, calling out Black Crow Winery.

Albus sat back in his chair, clasping his hands and resting them against his stomach, a twinkle in his eye. "That went well, Minerva, don't you think?"

"Albus, I'm not completely certain what you are up to, but Severus has made it abundantly clear that he is perfectly satisfied with his current situation and would not look kindly on your meddling in his affairs."

"Severus believes he is happy because this is what he knows. What he needs is someone to share his life, his triumphs and his failures. He's never had that, Minerva. Is it wrong for me to want him to be happy?"

"He is happy, he just told you so himself. More importantly," Minerva glanced toward the hidden, locked door in the foot well of her desk, "we must keep the book hidden. Imagine the chaos it would cause if Hermione were to find it. You know she wouldn't rest until she discovered why Severus is not listed in it. She would not accept the excuse that the book failed somehow when it came to his death."

"Perhaps someone with a bit of tenacity is exactly what Severus needs to pull him out of his self-imposed exile. It's been over five years, Minerva. Despite what he thinks, he's paid his dues. He deserves a life that doesn't simply revolve around grapes and solitude."

Minerva crossed her arms on her chest. "And you think what he needs is Hermione Granger? He barely tolerated her presence during her time here. What in Merlin's name makes you think that he'd tolerate her now?"

"She has become a quite lovely young woman, hasn't she?" Albus replied with a smile.

"Stop avoiding my question, Albus. Again, what makes you think that Severus would tolerate Hermione in his life?"

Albus's eyes twinkled. "I don't believe that I ever said he would. It is simply my wish for a good friend to find the happiness he deserves."

Minerva sat at her desk, pulled a stack of papers towards her and began to mark them. "You're playing with fire, Albus, and you're not the one who will be burned."

**sshg**sshg**sshg**

 

Hermione raised her hands in the air in frustration. "It's not like I want to break into the Ministry or rob Gringotts. I just need to talk to Professor Dumbledore without Minerva hovering."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh because you've never used your Invisibility Cloak to sneak in someplace you ought not to have?"

"What I did while I was at Hogwarts doesn't count." Harry replied. "I've not used it since we left there."

Hermione tilted her head and glared. "So that wasn't you under the cloak spying on Draco..."

"You swore you'd never mention my lapse in judgement again," Harry said, with a mock-pout on his lips.

Draco laughed and moved closer to Harry on the couch, an arm moving to drape around Harry's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Is that what we're calling it now? A lapse in judgement?" He gently smacked the back of Harry's head. "I'd call it a fit of jealous insanity, myself," his tone was smug, yet playful.

"Enough," Harry nearly shouted. "It's not "Pick on Potter Day" and I'm not the one wanting to break into the Headmistress's office under an Invisibility Cloak."

"Not this time," replied Hermione and Draco in unison.

Harry stood quickly from his seat and raised his hands over his head. "Fine, I'll go get it. But when you get caught, Hermione Granger, I'll swear in front of the Wizengamot that you must have stolen it without my knowledge."

Harry stomped up the stairs and returned a few minutes later, an opaque, shimmering bundle in his arms. He stopped in front of her and handed it to her, hesitantly. "Take good care of it, yeah?" he said softly. "It's very..."

She reached up and touched his hand. "I'll be careful, Harry, I know what it means to you." Taking the bundle into her hands she stood, shook out the cloth and placed it over her head. Her body disappeared and reappeared quickly as she pulled the cloak off and folded it neatly before placing it into her shoulder bag. "Wow, talk about déjà vu. I can't remember the last time I was underneath that."

Stretching up onto her toes, she kissed Harry on the cheek. "Thank you, I promise it'll be fine, and I'll take very good care of the cloak."

Draco stood and moved next to Harry, his arm moving automatically around Harry's waist. He shifted forward and gave a lock of Hermione's hair a tug before kissing her on the cheek. "See that you do, Granger, I'd hate to have to hurt you over a cloak."

She lowered her eyelids and gave a small nod in response before stepping over to the Floo. She called out her destination and was gone in a flash of green flame.

"I still don't understand what she hopes to discover from Dumbledore," Harry said.

"She thinks he knows what's going on with Severus's portrait," Draco answered.

"I get that, I'm not a complete block-head. But I don't understand why she thinks Dumbledore will tell her if Minerva isn't around."

They settled on the couch, leaning on one another. "I only know what she's told me. She thinks Minerva is keeping Dumbledore from telling her why she can't speak with Severus.

Harry shrugged. "She probably is," he replied. "You know how she is about Hogwarts and anything to do with its secrets. She's always been protective."

Draco nodded thoughtfully. "What if there really is a Death Book? And what if it's the brother book to the one that records every magical birth and it does record every witch and wizard's death. It stands to reason that it would list information about Severus. Maybe that's a secret she's unwilling to share."

Harry settled back more comfortably, his head dropping to Draco's square shoulder. "Interesting, although I can't imagine why people can't know where the old git's buried and what not. Well, I just hope Hermione manages not to get caught," he said, closing his eyes. "I fancy explaining to Minerva what she's doing with my Cloak about as much as I want to kiss a Hippogriff."

"Oh, poor Potter," Draco teased, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "I'll protect you."

Harry sputtered in feigned outrage, but stopped when Draco's smiling lips closed over his.

Hermione listened carefully before she stepped out from behind the statue of the Humpbacked Witch. She shook her head and stifled a sneeze. It had been dusty in the old passageway, and she rubbed her nose in an effort to avoid another sneeze. A noise to her right startled her, and she quickly pulled the Invisibility Cloak from her rucksack and covered herself. She pressed back against the wall, holding her breath, as two upper year students sauntered past on their way to the Great Hall for supper.

When they had finally turned the corner she began her journey to the Headmistress's office, hoping that Minerva had found no reason to seal her office that day. She reached the seventh Floor and stopped at the statue of the gargoyle. She glanced to her left and to her right before whispering hedgehog, the current password. The wall opened and Hermione stepped quickly onto the stairs and rode up to the top. Hurrying off the stairs, she paused outside the large oak door and listened for any noise.

She placed a hand on the door and pushed, smiling to herself when it opened easily. Moving inside, she closed the door behind her.

"Empty," she whispered to herself, after glancing quickly around the room.

"That's not entirely true, Miss Granger," a deep voice said, and Hermione looked up, startled. "And I see that Mr Potter has allowed you to make use of his Invisibility Cloak. I always could see through it, you know." He smiled benignly. "It might prove to be to your benefit that Minerva cannot."

Hermione pulled the Cloak from her head, smoothing her hand over her hair with a self-conscious gesture.

"Your use of it," he went on with a slight smile, "does lead me to wonder just exactly why it is that you are attempting to hide from her."

She felt the heat of a blush creep up and dot her cheeks as she inhaled deeply, exhaled and for a brief second, she considered her words. "I have some questions."

"You have questions every time you visit, Miss Granger, but I cannot recall any that would require you to arrive under an Invisibility Cloak."

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warmer still. "I, well you see...I wanted to talk to you without Professor McGonagall being present, sir."

Dumbledore looked down at her. "Perhaps the answers you seek are not mine to give."

"I don't understand," she replied, her brow furrowed. "How do you even know what I came to ask?"

"You are an exceedingly bright young woman, Miss Granger," he said with a slight smile. "I would expect you to wonder why it is that Professor Snape seems to be somewhat more... exhausted than the rest of us."

Hermione stared, her mouth slightly open. "How did you know that?"

"A lucky guess," he answered with a wry twinkle in his eyes.

"Don't you find it odd, Professor?" Hermione persisted, glancing at Snape's still form. "That he's asleep all of the time?

"Not even remotely."

Exasperation made her clench her hands into fists. "Why is it I feel as if you know a good deal more than you're willing to tell me?"

His smile made her grimace. "I do believe we already discussed how very bright you are."

She was so frustrated that she ran her hands into her hair and tugged. "This is getting me nowhere," she fumed.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said softly. "Understand that my participation in your quest is somewhat limited by my circumstances."

She looked up at him, a furrow between her brows. "Meaning..." She hesitated, and he cocked his head.

"That I might be able to point you in the right direction, but first you must ask the right questions."

Hermione pondered his words. "But," she said, her head jerking up, "you can't be a Secret Keeper, you're...well, you're dead."

"Ten points to Gryffindor, for astute powers of observation," Dumbledore said with a laugh.

"Then if you're not a Secret keeper, what could possibly be preventing you from telling me what is going on or how to find the answer?"

"You're a very bright witch," he replied, "use your knowledge and education. There are other ways wizards have for keeping information private. And often the information that has been told can be located through another source."

"But if it's not told to someone, what else is there?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"Fine. All right – let me think. One can leave a memory, but that's not often practical."

"Something that I believe would be a bit more tangible...permanent. Think of something you revere, my dear."

Hermione frowned. "Revere? But what do I have to do with this?"

"I never said you were a part of the answer. I said something you revere, something you treasure, if you will."

"Like...what? I revere my magic, I revere knowledge..."

"Yes," he nodded encouragingly. "But along with the knowledge you revere..."

"I revere learning. OH!" Her eyes brightened. "I revere the written word! Books! You're talking about books!"

Dumbledore smiled.

Hermione gasped. "Is it true then?

"Several things are true, Miss Granger; is there one in particular truth to which you are referring?"

"Draco mentioned a book. One he'd heard about as a child. Harry and I hadn't heard of it, much like we'd never heard of The Tales of Beetle the Bard,"she paused and spoke in a hushed voice, "he called it the Book of the Dead."

"I see," Dumbledore replied. "And what other interesting things did he say about this book?"

"Erm, he said it listed all the deceased witches and wizards, how and when they had died, and if they are ghosts or not."

"Fascinating; did Mr Malfoy have any idea where this book might be kept?"

Hermione frowned. "He wasn't even certain the book existed. Are you telling me it does?"

"Miss Granger, I believe I have already mentioned that I am not at liberty to answer all of your questions directly and that many things will need to be worked out on your own."

"But who knows how much time I have before Minerva comes back?" She gestured wildly.

"I have it on good authority that Minerva will be tied up for much of the evening sorting out an altercation between several of the Slytherin and Gryffindor seventh years." He smiled slightly. "Even so, I do recommend that you do not dally."

Hermione paced from one end of the office to the other, muttering as she walked. Right, go with what you know. What do you know? You know that there is a book, at least I think it's a book, that tells you everything about the dead. Now how does that help me?

She stopped. "Professor? This Book of the Dead...why is it such a secret? I mean, if you're dead —it's not really a secret. You died...you're recorded in the book. What about that information could possibly need to be hidden?"

"Once again, you are not listening to me. I do not recall ever stating that the book was a secret. Simply because a book is not openly discussed, it should not be assumed that it has been kept a secret." He paused. "Many know of the book, few however know how to locate it."

"But you do," Hermione stated. She looked at Dumbledore for some type of response. "This is so frustrating," she grumbled, when Dumbledore remained silent.

"Sit down, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said suddenly. "Rest for a moment. Perhaps you need to clear your mind."

"Sit down?" she repeated back. "Clear my mind? What exactly are you..."

"Sit," Dumbledore commanded.

Hermione moved to sit on one of the chairs in front of Minerva's desk.

"Not that chair. I believe you would be much more comfortable in the chair on the other side of the desk."

Her brow furrowed, but Hermione followed his instructions, walking around the desk and sitting in the Headmistress's chair.

"Thank you," she said, "this is very nice, but I really need to find this book." She looked over at the portrait of Severus Snape and noted that he was in the same position as always.

"It's a very fine desk," Dumbledore said, "Full of wonderful gadgets and gizmos, don't you think?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, exasperatedly. "It's a fine desk, filled with wonderful gadgets and gizmos, but this is not getting me any closer to finding this book before Minerva returns."

"I've always found that my curiosity often gets the best of me when in the presence of gadgets. I have an uncontrollable urge to move them, to tilt them or press them to see just what it is they do. Have you ever felt that pull of curiosity?"

"Curiosity killed the cat," Hermione snapped.

"It also has provided the answers many seek," Dumbledore countered.

Hermione sighed and began to touch and prod at the items surrounding the front part of Minerva's desk. Her hand brushed over a small indentation on the desk and she paused. She looked up expectantly at Dumbledore and pressed her finger into the recess. A door in the knee well popped open, hitting her leg. She gasped and looked under the desk.

"There's a door!" she exclaimed. "And there's a book in here!!" She pulled the old tome out of the compartment and placed it in front of her on the desk. She ran her hands over the leather, feeling the magic and the age of the book under her fingertips.

"This is it, isn't it?"

Dumbledore smiled.

Hesitantly she opened the book and turned the pages, slowly at first and then she began skipping pages to reach the more current additions. "Oh," she said softly. "Harry's parents."

She turned several more pages before she stopped and felt tears fill her eyes, her fingers tracing the words before reading aloud, "Albus Dumbledore, born 1881, died 1997 at the hand of Severus Snape under the direction of an Unbreakable Vow, final resting place Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Do not grieve, Miss Granger. After all, it is as it should be to find my name in this particular book."

"I know," she replied. "It just brings it all back."

She sighed deeply and continued, her finger tracing the names of so many people that she knew. Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Lupin, Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey "Such a waste... so many good people gone." Hermione turned the page and paused. The names were familiar, but she felt no regret as she read them aloud. "Bellatrix Lestrange, Vincent Crabbe, Tom Riddle. I certainly can't say I'm sorry that they didn't make it."

She ran her finger down the rest of the page and onto the next. Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed as she continued turning back and forth between the place where Dumbledore's entry was found to the pages that listed the other casualties of the war.

Finally, she sat back in the chair with a confused frown. "I don't understand. The name Severus Snape is not listed on any of these pages."

Dumbledore nodded.

"You led me to believe that every witch or wizard is listed in this book when they die. But that can't be true; Professor Snape isn't listed on any of the pages."

"The book is never wrong, Miss Granger."

"But he's not listed in here! His name has to be in here, he's..." she thumbed through the pages again, her finger running down the names on each page. She looked at Dumbledore. "It's impossible. You tell me the book is never wrong, and yet I know that Snape is dead."

"Did you see his body removed from the Shrieking Shack? Watch them place him in the ground? Perhaps you paid your respects graveside?"

She shook her head. "No, but that doesn't mean anything. I didn't see Rufus Scrimgeour die, and yet I see his information listed here."

"Think, Miss Granger," Dumbledore prodded. "Don't close your mind to possibilities."

"Possibilities?" Hermione said, growing more frustrated by the moment. "What other possibility could there be? He's either dead, or..." She went very still, eyes wide.

Dumbledore didn't say a word, but his eyebrows arched and his eyes twinkled.

"But I saw him die," Hermione insisted.

"You saw him bitten by Nagini."

"But..."

"Didn't it ever, even for the briefest of moments, occur to you that Severus just might have expected this?" Dumbledore asked. "Even prepared for it?"

She sat back in the chair, shoulders slumped. "Never. We just left him there to die."

"Miss Granger...Hermione," Dumbledore said quietly. "Severus knew the risks. He also knew what needed to be done for the war to be won. Every single step taken had been done at a price. Don't blame yourself for what you did. Harry had what he needed to finish the battle and win the war."

Hermione covered her face with her hands, slowly rubbing up and down. "Even after all this time and with all the research and information I've been gathering for this new edition of Hogwarts: A History, one memory can release an avalanche of regret."

"The time for regret is long past. Now is the time for all of the heroes and survivors to live their lives. Your additions to this book will help the wizarding world learn firsthand information about a dark time in our history and understand that out of the darkness, many good things come."

"Professor Snape's story would be a brilliant addition to the book, assuming he really is alive."

Dumbledore sighed loudly.

"Fine. For the sake of argument, let's say he is alive," she stood and moved around the desk. "I would imagine he didn't stay around here. It's a big world, and he could be anywhere."

"When I come across a difficult problem, I find that relaxing with a nice glass of wine can be quite helpful."

At that moment, the door to the office opened and Minerva walked in. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She looked at her desk top, eyes stopping on the old tome still there and her face paled.

"Miss Granger," she finally said, her voice low, vibrating with both shock and irritation, "please explain this."

Hermione had taken a step back, her hands clutched in front of her. She swallowed heavily. "I... I just..."

McGonagall's eyes snapped then as anger flowed into them. "I think it's fairly clear what 'you just'," she said sharply. "I wish for you to explain to me how you could violate the sanctity of this office, entering it when I was occupied elsewhere!"

Both of the women started when they heard a jolly laugh.

"Violate the sanctity of this office?"

They both looked up to find Dumbledore watching them in thinly concealed delight. "That's a rather over-wrought statement, even for you, old girl," he went on fondly. "This is just an office, Minerva. Not the inner sanctum at the Wizengamot."

"She broke in!" Minerva continued. "And you've broken your word."

"One cannot break in if they are privy to the password and the door is unlocked. Miss Granger's method may have been a bit unorthodox, but I assure you that she arrived at each conclusion on her own."

Minerva glared.

"Perhaps a bit of guidance, but nothing more."

"Well you've the information you came for, Miss Granger; I think it's time you left," Minerva said coldly.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply and was cut off by Dumbledore.

"You know, Minerva," he said with a smile. "This might be the perfect time for you to open one of those lovely bottles of wine you have over on the side-board."

Minerva turned from Dumbledore's portrait to the side-board and back again. "I don't believe that would be a good idea, Albus."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Well, perhaps you could allow Miss Granger to take one home with her to share with Harry and Draco while they discuss the events of this evening."

"For the love of Merlin, Albus," Minerva shouted, her hands gesturing in the air, "why don't you just hand her a Portkey to his door!"

Hermione backed slowly towards the office door, reaching out a hand for the knob.

"You might as well take the Floo home," Minerva said crisply. "And save yourself the trouble you evidently took to arrive undetected."

Nodding her head, Hermione moved to the fireplace. She scooped up a handful of Floo powder and turned back to face Minerva. "I'd like to..."

She was cut off with a wave of Minerva's hand. "We will discuss this, Hermione, but not today." Minerva turned towards her desk.

Knowing that any further comments would be met with an icy glare and hoping to avoid any mention of Harry's Invisibility Cloak to Minerva, Hermione turned back to the fire-place. She stopped and looked at Dumbledore, tilting her head slightly. He smiled and gave his head a tiny nod. She pulled out her wand and whispered Accio wine bottle. The bottle zoomed across the room, into her outstretched hand. The second her fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle, she tossed the Floo powder into the flames, called out her address and stepped out of the office.

 

**sshg**sshg**sshg**

 

Back in her living room, Hermione sat at the table, her head down with her cheek resting on top of her crossed arms. The bottle of wine she'd pilfered on her way out of Minerva's office was beside her arm and she could only see it if she looked through her right eye. She opened and closed each eye, seeing the bottle – then making it disappear. She began to feel guilty about having taken it without permission. She sat up in the chair, guilt turning slowly into anger. She stood and began to pace around the room, talking out loud to herself. "I have no reason to feel guilty. If Minerva had just been open with me in the first place, I wouldn't have been forced to borrow the Invisibility Cloak and go to her office to talk to Dumbledore alone," she reasoned. "Not only that, but from their argument, it seems like Albus was in favour of giving me the information I needed all along."

She sat back at the table and took the wine bottle into her hands. "But what does a bottle of wine have to do with Snape?" She looked at the label again. Schwarze Rabe in a heavy elegant font with a large black bird, wings open as if set to fly, sat atop the letters.

"Maybe Draco knows," she said aloud. Crossing the room to the fireplace, she knelt at the hearth, threw in a handful of Floo powder and called out Harry's address, as she put her head into the flames.

"Harry? Draco? Are you there?" she called out.

Harry walked from the direction she knew to be the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Hermione! How'd things go? You're not calling to tell me you've been arrested and need us to bail you out, are you?" He laughed and knelt at his hearth.

"No," she smiled. "Although it was quite an interesting visit. Do you and Draco have some time to come through? I have loads to tell you, and I'd prefer not to do it on my knees."

Draco's head popped into view and he grinned. "Should I be worried that you're discussing being on your knees in front of my husband – when I'm in the other room?"

Harry elbowed Draco in the ribs. "Hermione wanted to know if we could come through and discuss her visit with Dumbledore this afternoon."

"Absolutely," Draco replied. "We'll give you a few minutes to clear the way and we'll be over."

Hermione stood and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. While she waited, she put a tea tray together and just as the men were stepping into her living room, she entered the room carrying a tray laden with a tea pot, cups and a plate with an assortment of sweets. She placed it on the table before greeting Harry and Draco with a quick hug.

"Sit, the tea is still steeping, but should be done momentarily."

They sat around the small wooden table in Hermione's dining area. Hermione poured three cups, setting each one on the table in front of them.

"How'd things go?" Harry finally asked.

Hermione's face lit up. "I found the Book of the Dead," she blurted out.

"You did?" Draco asked, his eyes bright. "It exists?"

Nodding her head, Hermione continued. "It's amazing. Well as amazing as a book about dead people can be. But it's quite sad too." She reached a hand across the table and covered one of Harry's with it. "I saw the listing for your parents, Harry. And Sirius and Dumbledore. All the ones from during the war. That part was difficult."

Draco took Harry's other hand into his. "You okay?"

"'M fine," Harry said. "But what about Snape? Where's the git buried?"

"He's not," Hermione answered.

"What?" Draco and Harry said in unison.

"It's generally considered poor taste to bury someone who's not dead."

"I knew it!" Draco shouted.

"But how..." Harry wondered.

"I don't have the details, but according to Dumbledore the book is never wrong and Snape is not listed anywhere in that book. Dumbledore wasn't able to just tell me everything outright, but I was able to figure out what I needed to know. It was like he was bound by some sort of magic not to talk about Snape."

"Wizarding Word," Draco said.

"What in the world is that? Hermione asked.

Draco paused. "It's sort of like an Unbreakable Vow, but not as intense. More like a promise...with consequences. It's rarely used anymore, but given Severus's history with the Unbreakable Vow, it wouldn't surprise me to find out he used it with Dumbledore."

Hermione nodded. "That makes sense. Dumbledore was able to guide me with clues and hints. But he never came right out and told me what I wanted to know."

"He didn't happen to give you any clues to bring home, did he? Just because Severus isn't dead, doesn't mean we know where to find him."

"I'm not sure." Hermione said. "I do have this." She reached behind her and placed the bottle of wine on the table.

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Hermione. "Dumbledore gave you this?"

"Not exactly," she said, red creeping up her neck. "I kind of stole it on my way out. He kept hinting that McGonagall and I should have a glass of wine, and she was having none of it. Minerva was less than pleased to find me there, with the book on her desk. And I sort of... Accio'd it as I went through the Floo."

Draco laughed in delight even as Hermione felt her face fill with embarrassed colour.

"It's not that funny," she said defensively.

"It's bloody hilarious," Draco countered, reaching for the bottle and lifting it in his hand. "So, Dumbledore wanted you to have some of this, eh?" He turned the bottle in his hands, his fair brows lifting. "Well, I can tell you one thing for sure."

"What? That it's red?" Hermione said with a giggle.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Very cute. No, you can tell that this is from a wizarding winery."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she stared at the label. "What? How?"

Draco turned the bottle and pointed to a runic symbol on the back of the label, so small that it was difficult to read but unmistakably there.

"This symbol," he said. "See it? All wines specifically made for wizards have to register through their Ministries of Magic. During Elizabeth the First's reign, there was an agreement between the magical and wizarding worlds about the amount of wine that Parliament would allow to be sold to Muggles. It grew to cover all of the countries in Europe. Each country has their own symbol. This one? Means the winery is in Germany. From there the bottles had to be individually numbered. The tradition has been maintained even though I doubt there are many who understand the source."

"Now we just need to figure out why Dumbledore wanted me to have this bottle of wine," Hermione said with a sigh.

"Well, there's only one way to know what Dumbledore was about. You need to go to the winery and ask some questions," Harry added.

"And just exactly what are you suggesting?" Hermione asked. "That I burst into the winery and demand to see Severus Snape?"

"As amusing as I find that visual," Draco laughed, "if Severus doesn't want to be found, you can guarantee that he's only told people who will not give him up. I think strong-arm tactics wouldn't get you very far."

"Well it's a completely moot point since I've no clue where to begin to look for this winery. Other than somewhere in Germany – which is a fairly large country."

Harry picked up the bottle from the table, looking at the label thoughtfully. "You know," he said softly, "the Ministry keeps a log of all the Floo trips to and from Hogwarts. It has done since the war, as a precaution." He glanced up from beneath his fringe, eyes calculating. "I just happen to know where those records are kept. It wouldn't take anything for me to check them. If Minerva has been having a visitor from Germany, it will show up in the log."

Draco took the bottle from Harry and looked at the label. "This is a remarkably... uninformative label. Usually at least the town where the wine was made is listed. It almost appears as if keeping the winery's location a secret was intentional." He lifted one brow. "That sounds very much like Severus, now that I think about it."

Harry nodded. "I'll start checking the records tomorrow. It shouldn't take too long. I'd say you'll be on your way to Germany within the week."

Hermione stood and crossed the room to her bag and pulled out a shimmering bundle. She sat back down at the table and handed it to Harry. "Thank you for trusting me with this and for all your help. I wish I knew why I feel like I have to find Professor Snape. It's just..."

Harry took the cloak and laughed. "Oh I know why. You hate a mystery. You need the answers. And you'll never be satisfied with the updates to Hogwarts: A History until you have Snape's input."

"I hate being predictable," she pouted.

"Not predictable," Harry said, reaching over and tugging on a lock of her hair. "Just Hermione."

 

**sshg**sshg**sshg**

 

Harry was true to his word, and before the week was over, Hermione was on her way to Germany. The trip had been swift and easy. Having access to the nearly universal Floo network at the Ministry of Magic certainly did make the cooking she'd need to do for Harry and Draco upon her return a little easier to bear. Having never been to Germany, or to a vineyard for that matter, made this trip a bit of a welcome adventure.

She brushed the Floo powder from her robes before giving her surroundings a good once over. The fireplace she'd come through was as large as any she'd ever seen, and that was saying something, but the room she found herself in was something altogether different. Baronial was the first word which leapt to mind and then freezing! At that moment Hermione was glad she'd borrowed a cloak from Draco. Even with needing to transfigure it a bit to fit, the fabric was warmer than any she owned. It was then that she started and came to a complete standstill. Sitting behind an enormous Charles X desk was a small and wizened old man. He simply sat there with a very "Dumbledore-esque" smile on his face, studying her through a pair of half moon shaped spectacles.

When he noticed that he had her full attention, he rose from his chair and extended his hand warmly.

"I am Norbert von Ullenburg. And you must be Hermione Granger. At last." His voice was quiet and thickly accented. Hermione's surprise must have been visible on her face because the stranger's smile deepened further as he asked her to have a seat and offered something to drink.

"Yes, thank you," she stuttered. Hermione seated herself in a beautiful Queen Anne chair and made herself comfortable while the gentleman poured what she could only guess was brandy. Mr von Ullenburg handed her the drink and then seated himself beside her in an identical chair. "Lovely chairs," Hermione said, feeling awkward and not knowing what else to say.

"Yes, they are indeed, and two of the only known examples which actually belonged to Her Highness," he said with a deep and satisfied chuckle. "Although I'm certain you did not travel this distance to discuss my furniture. Why have we the pleasure of your company today at Black Crow Manor, Miss Granger?" His inquiry was stated most matter-of-factly.

The ball was in her court now, and she didn't want to alarm this obviously frail man, so she took a deep breath, collected her thoughts and began. "Well, sir, I've come on rather delicate business. For reasons which I am not completely at liberty to discuss, I believe that a man we in the United Kingdom know as Severus Snape can be found here or in these parts. I know that he's alive, and that he might not wish to be found, but I have a few questions that only he can answer. I am very anxious to find him, and I hope you might be able to help me." She took a still deeper breath and was about to continue when her host motioned for her silence.

"If a man has no wish to be found," he asked, "who am I to gainsay him? If we were to assume that I already am in this man's acquaintance, does it seem likely that I would divulge his whereabouts to a perfect stranger, no matter how charming and beautiful?" He looked at Hermione, his head cocked to one side like an inquisitive bird, calmly awaiting an answer. For some reason, she had the distinct impression that he could see that she was uncomfortable, and also knew that her mind was whirring, trying to come up with some argument or some ruse to convince him. So far, she was being completely unsuccessful.

"I can only guess from your silence that you've nothing further to add," he said, not unkindly. "And since I am quite busy, I fear our time together is at an end." Mr von Ullenburg rose from his desk and extended his hand again, obviously dismissing her.

"This is very important!" Hermione said shrilly, then wanted to pinch herself for such a childish outburst.

"Important to whom, Miss Granger?" asked her host. It was then that it occurred to Hermione that the man knew her name. She hadn't introduced herself and there was nothing on her person which identified her.

"You must know something of me if you know my name Mr von Ullenburg," she said, her eyes narrowing now that she felt that the tables had turned, if only a bit. "I won't allow myself to simply be dismissed." She remained steadfastly in her seat. She wasn't going anywhere without some answers, and she knew this would be her only chance at it.

Her host, clearly seeing her determination, again seated himself and gazed at her imperturbably, apparently content to wait for her to further explain the reason for her visit. He smiled benignly as he waited for an answer, and Hermione could see that he could play the waiting game with the best of them. She finally caved in with a sigh.

"Honestly.... My quest to find Professor Snape began in Albus Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts. I can only assume that you know who he was." The man inclined his head regally. "I am doing research for a revision of Hogwarts: A History, but every time I attempted to speak with his portrait, I was met by a sleeping Snape. Through a somewhat circuitous series of events, I later learned that Severus Snape is in fact alive. And that's why you find me here in your lovely study." She paused to see if that was sufficient to get the man talking again. He hesitated, his expression thoughtful.

"This expedition does look like an awful lot of trouble for a book which, if memory serves, is completely accurate as it stands. Please don't misunderstand my meaning, Miss Granger," he said quickly, as if fearful he'd insulted her. "I really do wish I could help you. It's just that, well, acting contrary to someone's express wishes for the sake of an unnecessary revision really does seem a bit weak, don't you think? I might be persuaded should there be some reason of enormous urgency, but..."

Hermione hadn't expected to hit a dead end again when she was clearly so close, and her hands fisted in the fabric at her waist. What could she say to convince him? It had become more than a mere revision of the book for her. Like Harry had said, it had become a quest. The original questions that she wished to ask now seemed so inconsequential. Now she wanted to know why he'd chosen to let the wizarding world believe him dead. She wanted to know how badly he'd been hurt, how long his recovery had taken, who had healed him. She wanted to know…so many, many things. But at the crux of it, she wanted to know that he had survived the war intact, that he had found a measure of peace. That he was happy.

The thought brought tears to her eyes as she looked into the old man's kind face.

"You're absolutely right," she said, her voice sounding thick even to her own ears. "If it were merely about a book, it would be weak, indeed. And when I began this… search, it truly was about the book. But, it's become so much more than that." She paused, searching for the words. "We were wrong about him," she went on again, her throat tight. "All of us. We were wrong, and we've all had that on our consciences ever since the end of the war. He was treated terribly, slandered terribly, by many who should have been the most grateful to him. Including myself." She felt a tear she'd not meant to cry slip down her cheek. "So, I don't suppose that I could say I have a reason of enormous urgency. Not in the grand scheme of things. But it's become enormously important to me. I want to see that he survived. I want to know if he's content. I want to tell him… that we're sorry, that I'm sorry." She paused and dashed at the dampness on her cheek. "So, I suppose it isn't urgent to anyone but me."

Mr von Ullenburg studied her calmly for a long moment before reaching over and covering her hand with his. "Oh, my dear," he murmured. "I rather suppose hearing such a thing might qualify as being urgently needed for him, as well."

"So you'll tell me where he is?"

"No, I will not betray his confidence," Mr von Ullenburg replied sternly. "But I will tell you that he resides in this village and that if you are patient, you will find this Severus Snape."

Hermione sighed and sat back in her chair.

"Yes, yes, miss," Mr von Ullenburg said. "I understand your disappointment in not being able to speak to Mr Snape today. However, if you know this man as well as you say, then you know he would not be pleased to find you standing on his doorstep."

Rising from her chair, Hermione reached out her hand. "I appreciate your candor, Mr von Ullenburg. Is there a hotel or someplace I can stay while I'm on my quest?"

**sshg**sshg**sshg**

 

Several hours later, Hermione found herself on the street outside a small frame house that had been turned into a hotel. She looked up and down the quaint street and wondered how long it would take her to find Snape. "Well nothing to do but move ahead," she said and began to stroll towards the shops. Time passed slowly and her first day in Germany brought her no nearer to her goal.

After placing a fire-call to Harry, to assure him she was fine and let him know she was going to stay a few days, she climbed between the cool sheets and was asleep the moment her head was on the pillow.

There was a moment of disorientation when Hermione first woke, that was quickly replaced by a feeling that she could not describe. It was a cross between excitement and dread and one that she'd not felt for years. She took care of her morning routine quickly and left the room for another day of searching.

By the end of the fourth day without even a glimpse of anyone who resembled Snape, Hermione was frustrated, annoyed and very close to going home. She sat at an outdoor cafe enjoying a light lunch when a figure dressed in black moved quickly down the street. There was no need to see his face, nobody could mistake that walk, and even without his teaching robes, Severus Snape cut a sombre silhouette against the mostly white stone buildings.

Hermione jumped up from the table, tossing some coins down before hurrying off. She stayed back what she hoped was an undetectable distance, moving close to the store-fronts and pausing in a doorway when necessary. Severus finally stopped and turned into the market, picking up a basket on his way in the door.

Even though she had no intention of buying anything, Hermione paused just long enough to put the hood of her cloak up over her hair before taking a basket and beginning what she hoped was a surreptitious search for Snape. She finally spotted him near a counter displaying different kinds of bread, having a conversation with a woman who appeared to be refilling a basket of rolls.

They were speaking German, she realized, and therefore understood very little of what was being said. It wasn't the content of the conversation that fascinated her, however, but the tone of Severus Snape's voice.

One night, she and Draco and Harry had had too much wine over the dessert course, and a tipsy confessional had followed, where they had dared one another to reveal which professor at Hogwarts that they'd had a secret crush on. Even in her cups, Hermione would have rather died than admit that she'd found Severus Snape wildly attractive, so she was stunned when, of all people, Harry did.

" Snape?" she squeaked. "You hated Snape!"

He'd been as red as the drapes in the Gryffindor Common Room, even as Draco looked at him with an indulgent smile. "Yeah, I hated him. Hated Draco once too, if you'll remember."

Draco had spread his hand on his heart. "You wound me," he'd teased, and Harry had nudged him with his shoulder, fighting a grin. "But I understand what you're saying about Severus," Draco had gone on thoughtfully. "Liquid sex, that voice."

Hermione hadn't thought that at all. She'd thought he'd been very attractive, in an austere, unapproachable way, and she could see the appeal of that deep voice she supposed, but when she heard it, all she thought was 'do you delight in being an insufferable know it all', and that took all of the charm out of it.

But now, listening to him speak to the baker, his tone soft and almost… teasing? Yes, he was teasing her because the woman's round cheeks were very pink and her answering smile shy, and Hermione could see what Draco meant. Deep, smooth, the voice flowed around her like dark chocolate, and she felt a chill run the length of her spine. She was so enamoured of it, in fact, that she stood rooted in place, and when he moved on to the cheese display she almost upended the bread cart in her haste to catch up to him.

He bought the bread, some goat cheese, and some fresh fruit. All of which would be lovely with a bottle of wine, she thought wistfully as he paid for his purchases at the counter. When he stepped out onto the sidewalk, the breeze caught a strand of his dark hair, lifting it to brush his cheek, and she watched in fascination as he raised a graceful hand and secured the errant strand behind his ear. She'd always noticed his hands; long of tapered finger, graceful, efficient. Again, she was so busy staring that she bumped into a magazine display. She righted it and apologized to an exasperated clerk before ducking out of the door to follow him as he moved off down the street.

He stopped at the post office, and she waited outside until he emerged with some letters under his arm. He nodded to several people he passed, and all of them returned his greeting in a friendly manner. When he was clearly done with his business and began to walk toward the fringes of town, she dropped back but continued her pursuit.

They passed some quaint houses, but then the neighbourhoods dropped away, and they began to move past farms with vast fields around them. He continued to walk briskly, not even glancing back, and she continued to follow him at a distance. Even the farms grew further and further apart, and she was beginning to weary, feeling overly warm in the heavy cloak, when she noticed the fields they were now passing. Plants staked in precise rows, connected to one another by an intricate series of fences drew her attention, and she realized that what she was staring at were grape-vines. The leaves were the bright green of early spring, and the gnarled trunks twisted up the sturdy stakes that held them, long woody shoots twisting around the dark wire. There was no fruit, at least none that she could detect, but there seemed to be acres and acres of plants, spreading nearly as far as the eye could see. She was so engrossed that she almost missed seeing Snape open a low wooden gate nestled in a flowering trellis and start up a flagstone walk toward a picturesque cottage.

She paused near the gate, hiding herself behind the trellis, wondering just what in hell she was supposed to do now. Did she follow him up to the door and knock? Did she go back to town and send a note? Thinking this was perhaps the best course of action and suddenly feeling extremely nervous, she dared one last glance around the edge of the trellis, only to see that he'd stopped and now stood, shoulders squared, just outside of what she imagined was his front door.

"What? Don't tell me you plan to stop there," he said, and Hermione jerked back, pressing her shoulders into the flowering bush, her eyes widened, her heart racing in her chest. "I rather thought you planned to follow me in and try to hide in my larder."

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as dust.

"Your attempt at stealth is an embarrassment, Miss Granger. Either show yourself or stop following me."

Hermione glanced around desperately, but there really was no-where else for her to hide, and certainly no way to slink away. Swallowing heavily, she straightened, pulled the hood from her hair, and stepped to the gate.

She noticed immediately the threads of silver that framed the austere face, the scarf that was wrapped around his throat almost to his chin. She wondered briefly if it was hiding the scars from the snake's fangs, but then her eyes were drawn up to find him studying her. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting; anger, surely. Irritation no doubt. She was surprised when instead she saw a sort of weary acceptance.

"Hello, Professor."

The corner of the stern mouth quirked slightly. "I've not been a Professor in quite a while, Miss Granger, and have no intention of being one, ever again. My days corralling unruly brats are over." He paused, one elegant brow arching. "Unless shooing them off of my property can be taken into consideration."

Hermione straightened. "I'm no longer a student, either," she said, her chin lifting. The corners of his eyes seemed to crinkle, and he studied her from her wind tossed curls to her toes and back again, his expression turning wry.

"So I see."

Blinking, she straightened her shoulders, unsure what to make of the leisurely perusal. "Professor," she began stiffly, and that mobile brow shot up again. "Sir," she said instead, and had the distinct impression he was fighting a smile. "I have some questions…"

"So I gather," he said, cutting her off. "You've rather infuriated Minerva with your insistent meddling."

She stiffened. "I wasn't meddling!" she said indignantly. "I'm trying to update Hogwarts: A History, to include the years leading up to the second war and beyond, and she has been something less than cooperative!"

His eyes narrowed slightly and his lips pursed. "Did it never occur to you, Miss Granger, that what she was doing was what she'd been asked to do?" His stare wasn't hostile, but it was unnerving. Hermione fought the urge to take a step back. "Had I wanted to be part of the wizarding world, I would have remained. Did you never think that the lengths I went to in order to disappear were because I did not wish to be found?"

She hesitated, staring into the angular face as he waited for her response.

"It… did occur to me," she said finally.

"And yet, you persisted, right to my very doorstep." He shook his head, and some of his hair pulled free to drift around his face. "When she describes you as persistent and bull-headed, Minerva is not wrong." He sighed and shook his head. "Miss Granger, I have made a life for myself here, one that I am more than satisfied with. I neither miss, nor want, to be part of what I left behind. Why have you been so dogged in your pursuit of this?"

She stared into his rugged face, all strong planes and stark angles, and knew the answer. She'd not known what compelled her when she began, but she did now. She'd told Mr von Ullenburg the truth, or at least part of it.

"I… believe that you could be invaluable to my research," she began, twisting her fingers together. "But there's… more than that, so much more. There are things…" she paused, swallowing. "We thought you were dead," she said in a rush. "Harry and I, we thought you were dead, or we never would have gone off and left you like that…"

"I know." There was no inflection in his voice, no condemnation.

"And, we didn't really understand, then, what you'd done. What you'd sacrificed…" She saw something move through the dark eyes, but she pushed on. "We didn't know about… well, we didn't know anything. None of us. We were stupid and blind and we didn't understand and…" She stopped, knowing she was babbling, and tried to center herself. Before she spoke again, she took a deep breath. "All of us owe you an apology. All of us. Without you, Harry never would have known what he needed to do and there was a very real chance that Voldemort might have won. We didn't see it, we didn't understand that you are the reason that he didn't, and I believe that all of us owe you..."

He held up his hand, effectively stopping anything else she might have been going to say.

"I appreciate your apology," he said, sounding weary. "And the courage it took for you to deliver it. And I do not mean to sound cruel. However, the time for apologies is long past."

"But," she began, and he shook his head emphatically.

"Let it go, Miss Granger. There was a time in my life when I thought I required the wizarding world's apology, even deserved it. But as I have come to appreciate the ability to live my life as I chose, on my own terms...I have found that the words are no longer important." He paused. "It is, however, gratifying that you felt the need to say them."

Hermione stared into his face, not altogether understanding the sudden feeling she had that she might cry. She blinked quickly instead.

"You're… happy then?" she asked tentatively.

"I am not unhappy, which in and of itself is something of a miracle, given my past."

"But are you happy?" she persisted.

"I am...content," he answered after a pause.

"That's not happy."

"Miss Granger, I am a man who never expected to live beyond the age of forty. And yet, here I am, forty-five, and the owner of one of the wizarding world's premiere wineries. I am free to come and go as I please. Content is more than I ever hoped for."

She nodded. "Fair enough. So," she gestured a bit helplessly. "The grapes, they're yours then?"

His lips again twitched as if he might smile. "The grapes, the wine, the winery. Mr von Ullenburg is an old and dear friend, and he has consented to be the face of the business so that I don't have to be."

She nodded. "I won't tell anyone about…" she gestured again, feeling awkward. "Any of it, if you'd rather I didn't."

"I'd appreciate that."

"There are people who miss you, though," she went on quickly. "Draco, for one."

She saw his eyes darken with something like fondness, and perhaps regret.

"I understand that he and Potter are together," he said, his tone dry. "Something which I find nearly incomprehensible." She cocked her head curiously. "Minerva keeps me informed of what she feels might interest me." He frowned slightly. "Even those things which leave me absolutely mystified."

Hermione couldn't help her laugh. "Trust me, you aren't the only one that felt that way." She saw his lips twitch again. "But it works, for them. They're happy together."

"Good," Severus said with a nod. "Both of them deserve to have found a measure of happiness."

"Yes." She stopped them, twisting her fingers nervously. "Well, I hope you won't be insulted when I tell you I… think you look very well."

He seemed to lose the battle with a smile, but it was a very slight one. "Anything would be an improvement over how you last saw me."

She felt a flush fill her cheeks. "I meant, you look… relaxed. And at ease. And," she shrugged helplessly. "I'm glad. I really am. Glad, I mean." She stopped and closed her eyes, mortified at her lack of poise. "I'll… just go now." She opened her eyes and found him studying her with amusement. "Yes, it's definitely time for me to go. I won't bother you again. I just wanted to say how very good it was to see you. I'm glad you're alive… Professor."

She once again fought down the sudden urge to cry, and began to turn away.

"Miss Granger."

She stopped and looked back at him, and as she watched, his face underwent the most astonishing transformation. It began at the corner of his mouth, and spread slowly, until she was looking at an easy smile, and for the first time she realized that Severus Snape was not only a man with an intimidating personal presence, but a very handsome one, as well.

"Hermione," he amended, his voice softening. "I was wondering…" He paused, his eyes moving over her face in a thorough manner, and she was surprised and yet pleased by the purely male appreciation in them. "Would you care to come in, perhaps for a glass of wine?" His smile ripened. "I can answer some of those pesky questions of yours."

She felt her own mouth pull up into a smile, and she knew her eyes were shining.

"I'd like that, very much." She paused. "Severus."

The black eyes filled with something very like pleasure as he turned to open his door.

Fin


End file.
